Gayle Trent Read Online Free PDF

imagine it would at that.”
     
    He paid the bill, gave me a peck on the lips, and we got in our cars and left.
     
    As I drove home, it started to rain. I put the windshield wipers on pause and listened to the rhythmic swoosh-swoosh of the blades. I’d listened to Harry Connick, Jr., on the way up, but I wasn’t in the mood for music now. I wanted to find out more about Jim . . . and Flora . . . and her whereabouts. Were the police still looking for her? I’d ask Sunny to check the newspapers again. But, of course, if no family member was riding the authorities to find Flora—or, at least, her body—and bring her home, then why should they concentrate on a case filled with dead leads?
     
    I could probably find out more at the library. In fact, I might be able to find out a lot of things at the library. After all, Flora worked at a library.
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    On Saturday, I got up, called Sunny and asked if she wanted to take a little trip with me. She was willing to go, provided I bought lunch somewhere along the way. “Somewhere” being a greasy spoon that served cheeseburgers and fries, I’m sure; but that’s okay. My cholesterol’s pretty good. I probably won’t have a heart attack and keel over at the table.
     
    “Where are we going?” she asked when she got into the car.
     
    I waved at Faye, standing on the porch. “The library.”
     
    “The library?” She groaned. “Mimi, you said we were gonna do some detective work today.”
     
    “You didn’t tell your Mama that, did you?”
    “Well, duh. No. Good thing I didn’t. I’d have been lying.”
     
    “No, you wouldn’t have. We’re goin’ to the library where Flora used to work.”
     
    “Really?” she squealed.
     
    “Maybe.”
     
    She huffed.
     
    “It’s the only library in the town where Jim lives. It’s got to be the right place. If not, maybe they’ll know her.”
     
    “Have you heard from him since your date the other night?” she asked.
     
    “Yeah. He called while I was at the grocery store and left a message on my machine. Said he’ll call again in a day or two.”
     
    “So, how’d that go anyhow?”
     
    “Well, it went all right up until I got to talkin’ to the waitress. She got me to thinkin’ that maybe Jim was two-timing Flora even before she died . . . or disappeared—”
     
    “Or he killed her.”
     
    “Yeah . . . or that.”
     
    “What’d she say that made you think he was cheating on Flora?”
     
    “She said she’d never seen him wear the same tie twice.”
     
    “Uh, sure, Mimi, that sounds like a cheater to me.”
     
    “Well, it’s not what she said—it’s how she said it. She said, ‘He’s been coming here for over two years and I’ve never seen him with—’ and then she broke off, looked kinda sick, and said ‘tie.’ I figure she was about to say she’d never seen him with the same woman twice, but stopped herself because I was the lady of the evening. Well, not the lady of the evening, of course, but—”
     
    “I know, Mimi. I know what you meant.”
     
    Fortunately, we were at the library by then. The library looked like you’d expect a library to look, except it wasn’t very big as far as libraries go. But the customary red bricks and little white columns were in place, and there were a couple of benches outside in case you wanted to sit out there during the summer and read. That’d be loads of fun—sweatin’ like a hog and gettin’ eat up by mosquitoes and gettin’ that West Nile stuff—but I reckon some of the teeny-boppers might enjoy it.
    Sunny ran up and held the door for me. She’s as polite as the day is long. Faye’s done a real good job of practically raising the child by herself.
     
    I went inside and immediately caught a whiff of that unique library odor—old books and well-trod carpet. Don’t know where the carpet figures into the equation, but it’s there. I wouldn’t say it’s a good smell, but there’s something . . . I don’t